


In Which Kankri and Mituna Spend A Tender Day Together

by MadameWaffleCakes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 99 percent pure fluff, Body Worship, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Moirails With Pails, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pale-Red Vacillation, happy valentine's to my fellow kantuna trash ♦️, the 1 percent is for my alluding to beforus having some...darker culling things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9719708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameWaffleCakes/pseuds/MadameWaffleCakes
Summary: Kankri trusts Mituna to see all of his scars, even the ones he never wants to have to explain.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jynxed_Laptop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jynxed_Laptop/gifts).



> A little ValenTUNA's day present for my matesprit who is adorable Kankri trash.
> 
> As this is a fic with our fucked up culling headcanons,  
> And as this is a Kankri fic,  
> #tw mentioned past body horror.
> 
> Enjoy!

Kankri always hides his scars. He's a seer of more than just blood of the coven.  
You're kissing a line at the nape of his neck, arms wrapped around him from behind. The water beads up on his shoulders and shimmers smoothly on the skin of his back, accentuating the little dip in padding at the center and the juts of bone.  
Your hand runs from the back of his head to his neck, the middlemost pads of your fingers moving slickly down the little bumps at the back of his neck. He shivers when your palm is between his shoulder blades-rolling them into your hand-and his body is so calm when you rest it at the curve in his lower back.  
Your other hand is curling up in his left, setting on the back of your hand makes your fingers line up perfectly.  
The water's harsh drumming against the tiles, the slap-slap-slap against mortar and porcelain is far from your ears, covered by the sound of it against Kankri's skin and his soft, emotional breathing.  
You bring his hand up, cradled in yours and examine his wrist while your right arm brings him closer to you, your forearm finding home just above the hardness of his hipbones.  
Like this, you can see some of the makeup on his arm wash away to the drain. Despite the sweater, he still cakes grey on the lines he can't play off as accidents.  
You frown and bring his wrist up to your lips, kissing the tiny hash lines, the wide and short lines, the long and thin lines, the marks that aren't anywhere _near_ the vicinity of resembling lines.  
Kankri is whimpering and his skin is a soft shade of cherry.  
You kiss at the shell of his ear and let him feel your breath there, gently shushing him as your other hand rubs tiny circles at the marks on his stomach.  
"834U71FUL. N0 M4773R H0W D4M4G3D Y0U 7H1NK Y0U 4R3."  
He makes a shaky, whiny chirring sound that roughly sounds like something between "I d9n't 6elieve y9u" and "Y9u t99."  
Your thumb runs back and forth over a particularly bad scar on the part where his wrist stops and his hand starts--that's where bone cuffs go in when really awful cullers think you need them to stay safe. You have the same lines on your own arms.  
Kankri has nightmares of his post-scratch life, sometimes he claws at his wrists to stop the burning of the irons that aren't there.  
You sleep beside him now, because being restrained with psionics dosen't trigger him like hands gripping him do.  
"Tuna...." His voice is so soft, you almost don't hear him over the water.  
"Y35?"  
"N9thing.... Just.... Tuna."  
You chuckle and go back to admiring the imperfections in Kankri's skin.  
-  
When you get into bed, you're both dry and still naked and the smooth, cool sheets feel amazing against your clean skin.  
But it dosen't compare to the feeling of him against you.  
....  
You're asleep in minutes, the ambiance of his soft breath whisking you away.  
\----  
You like how the sunlight is on this planet.  
When it's morning, the light coming in through the windows, flecks of dust looking like glitter in the air, the early sunlight coming through the window is like a candle and it glints off of Kankri's sleeping eyelashes. Tilting your chin down from where it was resting on top of his head lets you see how the lashes curl up at you, the soft rounded tip of his nose, his lips just slightly parted to let out such sweet, sleepy breaths. His hair is a mess and his body is beautiful when it's bare like this. The heavy cream blankets wrapped over the two of you don't cover the arm he has over your shoulders. He shifts a little until he's half-on his stomach, fingers all dantily curled up against his lips with the hand further away from you, the one close to you resting dantily against your biceps. His chest slowly rises and falls, the tiny sounds of air now instead escaping his nose beautiful in your ears. His chest is against yours. You lean more into him, the arm over his body culring up under him to cup his hand. Your shoulder is at the middle of his shoulderblades and you know your arm is gonna fall asleep or feel pulled if you stay like this for too long, but even so... His skin is soft and so much hotter than yours, and flushed a beautiful, comforting scarlet.  
You feel somewhat, as he would word it, privledged that he trusts you to see him this bare.  
\--  
The two of you don't get out of bed all day. You only get up to make Kankri some tea at one point, and he came in to whimper and spoon up behind you, needing more shooshpapings.  
When you ordered lunch from your phone, you picked it up from the door with psionics. The troll's reaction must've been hillarious, even if that's something that happens to them all the time.  
You don't care though.  
You're showing your red-ish moirail how he makes you feel.

There's a lot of calm silence, just being in each other's presence, feeling the weight of arms around your body. Feeling the weight of his body in your arms. Having fallen-asleep hands that feel like gripping a back massager head that's stuffed full of TV snow when you wake up from annother little hour nap.  
You couldn't mind it less.

-

It's almost sunset when you're exploring the little details of his body again. You just woke up and now your lips are pressed to the small lines at his stomach, right on the zone at the bottom where tiny touches make him jump a little and shiver anticipatingly.  
This isn't the first time the two of you have pale pailed.  
He's always quiet at the start, but he always loses that composure he bolsters about so much.  
You know it's because of you.  
Kankri whines something in Beforian about how he's unnatractive. You reach up to tenderly rest your palm against his grubscars, making him gasp before he can go on about with his self-deprecating monolouge.  
He's about to lecture you, but his tone is so half-hearted that you stay relaxed. He would let you know if he was upset with you, right now it was with himself.  
You run kisses up his inner thigh and listen to his breath catch through the gaps in the fingers over his mouth.  
You kiss gently at the swelling lips of his nook, tracing his hipbones with the pads of your thumbs.  
He's such a wonderful flavor, like candy, and you decide to see how many licks it will take at his center to make him come.

With how slow you go, trilling sweet nothings and praises in your throat, only using your tongue and lips against his nook, it takes an hour.  
You may have been aiming for a lick count of 2,222.

-

The window you have is pretty high. You can see rainbow-coloured lights of the night-busy carapacians down below.  
Kankri is leaning on your shoulder. The blanket is wrapped behind your backs and dosen't quite reach your shoulders. Nor more than halfway around the front of your bodies on either side. But you're up so high, nobody can see you.  
Kankri's face is illuminated with the diffrent colors of the lights down below, everything behind his ears pitch black in the silhouetting position it is.  
He's smiling and _ah_ the clear fluid over his eyes, it's reflecting the rainbow lights, his eyelashes perfectly framing them in their half-lidded, post-coital-blissed sweetness.  
His forearms rest against his chest, both hands holding the blanket halfway around his body, and they look relaxed.  
His shins tilt outwards a little from his knees and-- _oh_ you can see the slight concave of his stomach, the jut out of his hipbones, and _ah_ there's still a trace of gold on his lower stomach that you can barely make out in this lighting, making you remember not five minutes ago when he was softly calling your name over and over again as you made him come not with a jerk, but with the slow-built crest of a wave washing slowly over the shore. Spine tingles and his whole body being relaxed putty in your hands. You're so happy that you can make him that tension-free, a puddle of wanting goo beneath your fingers.....  
You know he's flushed for you too by the way he says your name, the way he closes his eyes without scrunching them, the way his toes curl and his head _slooowly_ tips backward, how his back arches and his stomach presses up to yours in such a long, fluid movement, his claws almost tearing holes in the sheets.


End file.
